


Low

by YaeL (thesometimeswarrior)



Category: Jewish Scripture & Legend, תנ"ך | Tanakh
Genre: Angst, Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Father-Daughter Relationship, Ficlet, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-19 10:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/YaeL
Summary: Yiftach's daughter returns from the wilderness.





	Low

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tassledown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/gifts).



> This piece is based on the story related in the biblical book of Judges chapter 11. Namely verses 30-40.
> 
> The chapter can be found [here](https://www.sefaria.org.il/Judges.11?lang=bi)
> 
> Chag Sameach!

When Yiftach sees his daughter returning from the wilderness, it’s a spear in his gut, a knife twisted, a repeat of the way his heart lurched when she came dancing out of the house to greet him two months previously with a timbrel in her hand, eyes shining…of the way he’d momentarily lost his voice before he broke down into wails.

_No! Get away!_

(It had been too late.)

_What’s wrong, Daddy?_ She’d furrowed her eyebrows. _Aren’t you…happy to see me?_

He’d fallen on his face, wrenched his clothing. She’d knelt down next to him, eyes gaping pools, totally ignorant, _desperate_ to understand, to help…

 _I was losing the War!_ , he’d cried, when he managed to wrench the words out of his protesting lungs, like an explanation, an excuse—as if there could be any justification for what he’d done…what he was now going to have to do...as if she could ever understand… _I was losing the War, and I was desperate, and so I swore to God that…that if He delivered the Ammonites into my hand…I…I would…_

(She was only a child!)

_You would what, Daddy?_

_I…Do…Do you know what a burnt offering is?_

_When you make a sacrifice to God and you let it all burn up on the alter, right?_

_I…I swore to God that_ …He’d wanted to embrace her, to hold her close in lieu of an answer, but what right did he have? _I swore…Oh, my daughter, you’ve become my tormentor!_ Sobs had overcome him, he couldn’t catch his breath…

_Daddy?_

_I swore to God that the first thing that came out of my house to greet me when I got back, I’d sacrifice as a burnt offering!_

He doesn’t wail now. (Neither does she.) When he's able to speak again, it’s in a rasp. “You returned.”

“Yes.” _Her_ voice is a monotone, decades older than it had been a mere two months ago.

Her eyes are older, too. 

She carries flint and a knife in her hand instead of a timbrel.

“I...I’d hoped…you’d stay away.”

“We agreed that I would have two months in the wilderness to mourn. And then I would return and you would do what you swore.”

(Hadn’t she just been a _child_?)

“I know, but—”

“Don’t worry, Daddy. You won’t really be killing me. All that’s left of me is my body. I took care of the rest.”

 _That shouldn’t have been your burden to bear_ , he thinks. Regret gnaws at his stomach, pushes him to heave, he’s hardly able to keep himself from outright vomiting. _This should not be your burden._ “I didn’t want this.”

“I know. But you must fulfill your oath.” 

She hands him the flint and the knife. He grasps it with trembling hands.

When, moments later, he’s standing over her on the pyre, she keeps her dry eyes open. Only his tears fall on her cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I love comments!!


End file.
